Heart Failure
by HidekazNo.1
Summary: Ivan Braginski's heart is frail. And removable. It causes him extreme pain to remove and put it back, yet he continues to do so anyway. The cycle is failing! What will happen when Ivan's heart disappears one morning? Rating will change! There will be yaoi eventually, I promise! I just don't know who to pair yet Tough language eventually, gore, possibly murder. This is a mystery!


**Prologue: Pain **

Ivan Braginski's heart is a weak, fluttering thing; also removable. The Russian found this strange ability quite entertaining when bored.

He would reach into his own chest and pluck the organ right out of its natural place. He would stare at it for hours, trying to decide what to do with such a useless and unnecessary object. In the end he would just shove his heart back in his chest and get on with his day.

Those days were the ones one would want to avoid Ivan.

On those days, not even a bottle of vodka or three could dull his chest pains. Those were the days that Ivan _felt_. He felt every emotion he had bottled up. They ripped through him, searing paths, leaving behind blinding migraines. Locked up in his room, not even Katyusha's begging could get a response from the secretly crying Russian.

Natalia could scratch on the door and scream at the top of her lungs for him to come out; nothing.

Ivan would emerge the next day with a terrible headache and a hangover, easily becoming violent. Vases smashed, doors impaled. Furniture would end up rooms away from origin, the liquor cabinet would end the day empty. The next day, Ivan wouldn't be seen until nearly noon, drenched in sweat from running. Eating a light luncheon, and then taking a short shower; then more running.

By the fourth day, Ivan would be back to normal; spending lots of time in his study finishing and starting work that needed attention. A bottle of vodka was gone once a day, per norm. He would answer the phone with an even voice, unlike two days earlier.

For weeks Ivan would be just fine, not even thinking of his heart; his chest pains.

A month later, usually just after the Monthly World Meeting, the cycle would start again.

Ivan would never admit it, but he was falling apart. The cycle was getting shorter each time, the pains getting worse. He got little work finished; he pissed people high up off and got in trouble with the police. He would often make his way to illegal fighting bars and pick fights with shady looking characters, returning with injuries nations shouldn't be able to receive from mere humans.

Ivan liked the pain.

Physical.

Nothing like the mentally searing pains of emotion packed away neatly in his heart, ready for release.

Ivan could deal with physical pain. But he knew nothing of emotional and mental pain. He'd been depressed before; it was nothing like this. This black, white-hot, swirl of emotion that lurked within him. This was irrationally painful.

And he could do nothing to stop it.

He didn't know how; no one did.

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

The cycle continued until, one morning, he woke up well rested and feeling weightless. His pain was gone. But he also felt hallow. Like a log burned out to make a canoe; empty.

Empty; weightless. Hallow.

He began to worry.

_Why am I not feeling? The pains are gone, why am I worrying? Why do I not feel anything? What happened?_

These questions mulled around Ivan's head for a full day.

That night, it dawned on him; his heart.

Retiring to his room, Ivan stripped off his scarf, long over coat, t-shirt, and undershirt. He placed his right hand over his chest; and pushed.

Slowly, the skin reacted, peeling away layer by layer. Ivan ignored the physical ache this action left and pressed harder. Blood oozed between his fingers, not much, but the sight made the Russian shiver. He never minded the sight of others blood, in fact it was widely believed that he was obsessed with the crimson liquid, killing just to see the stuff leak out of the victim's body, but in all reality he could barely stand the sight of his own blood. As he pushed on, his chest muscles peeled away in a similar fashion to the skin and the bones that make up his rib cage shifted apart for Ivan's large hand.

Finally, he reached the pocket that held the pulsating organ.

It was empty.


End file.
